


How Not To Realise You're In Love

by TheForgottenDreams



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: After Wedding Party, F/M, Kisses, Love Confessions, M/M, Multi, Realisations, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 16:12:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4186377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheForgottenDreams/pseuds/TheForgottenDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slow dancing, surrounded by your ragtag group of friends at Marius and Cosette’s after wedding party, whilst some romantic song begins to play in the background is not the ideal place to have the breath-taking, heart-stopping, unexpected, unnerving, but also electrifying realisation: you’re in love. </p>
<p>But this is exactly how Enjolras found himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Not To Realise You're In Love

Slow dancing, surrounded by your ragtag group of friends at Marius and Cosette’s after wedding party, whilst some romantic song begins to play in the background is not the ideal place to have the breath-taking, heart-stopping, unexpected, unnerving, but also electrifying realisation: you’re in love. 

But this is exactly how Enjolras found himself.

Shit. 

Grantaire’s eyes looked impossibly blue against his navy suit as the height difference cause him to peer up at Enjolras, his tie had been abandoned, his shirt unbuttoned at the top along with his messy curls made him look more debauched. But, as he looked up at Enjolras, his eyes were filled with panic and concern as if he had done something wrong by simply taking Enjolras’ offer up. 

He hadn’t done anything wrong. 

He never did. 

Enjolras had been thrilled when Grantaire had accepted his offer to dance, but he couldn’t show that, that would be weakness and weakness could not run a revolution. Enjolras had seen the artist sat alone at one of the tables, watching as Bahorel twirled Éponine around the dance floor, his mouth in a rueful smile and his eyes longing. The blond vaguely recalled that Grantaire dances as a hobby – as well as fences, boxes and paints - and then Courfeyrac had suggested Enjolras ask him to dance. 

Normally, he had learnt to ignore Courfeyrac’s suggestions (they either ended in disaster or at the police station). Examples: the water fight at two in the morning, putting glitter into Éponine’s washing machine and hereby ruining her mostly black clothes, spontaneously dancing in the street at any time of the day, streaking, trying to re-enact ‘The Circle Of Life’ from ‘The Lion King’ whilst at the zoo. Enjolras could go on.

But this plan couldn’t go wrong, it was just dancing, right? 

Or so he thought. 

So, Enjolras did go and ask Grantaire to dance, it was a harmless request after all. Grantaire had accepted and it had been fun, as they danced to the faster tracks. And, okay, Enjolras couldn’t dance, but Grantaire did help him – after he called Musichetta over to film his original attempt and she had squealed with delight when she uploaded it to every social network she could access, Enjolras was going to plot her death tomorrow. But then Enjolras had seen Courfeyrac go to the DJ, and he knew, this was the signal of the two options: disaster or Holding. 

He tried to remove both himself and Grantaire from the centre of the dancefloor, but he had been too late and the song had started and it had been Grantaire’s favourite song to slow dance to and who was Enjolras kidding? He couldn’t say no to Grantaire’s big blue puppy dog eyes no matter how much he pretended to. So they had danced to it. Slowly and, in close proximity to each other. Then one song blurred into another and another and now here he was, realising what the warm but comforting feeling in his chest was as he held Grantaire close and prayed he wouldn’t have to let go anytime soon.

“Enjolras?” Grantaire asked, his eyebrows drawing together – that’s when he realised he had sworn out loud. 

“Shit.” He repeated. 

Grantaire moved back slightly, out of Enjolras’ immediate zone of personal space, but still in his arms. Which was a relief, Enjolras’ brain had a tendency to malfunction when Grantaire was so close (now he knew why, thank you very much his (probably) stunted emotion-feeling brain cells and general obliviousness), but also a disappointment because of the earlier realisation. 

“You said that already.” The brunet remarked blandly.

“No.” Enjolras said, “Well, I mean yes, yes I did, but that’s not what I actually want to say. I… uh… I don’t know, let me think.” 

“Okay…” Grantaire replied, his tone cautious Enjolras making a hash of his speaking was a new, exciting but disconcerting occurrence, he wanted backup, but the rest of his friends seemed unaware of their… whatever this was. His blue eyes flickered over Enjolras’ shoulders every so often as Enjolras stared at the brunet. 

Enjolras took in the artist’s messy, black curls on his head and the kink in his nose from one too many bar fights. He took in the shades of blue in Grantaire’s eyes, so dark and some so light they almost looked grey, the thick curling eyelashes, the faint smell of soap powder, cigarettes, paint and ink, the way Grantaire’s back felt against his arms, how his suit fit him so well, and how the navy colour really complimented his tanned skin and dark hair.

He thought about every argument they’d ever had, thought about the way he looked at Grantaire and found the artist on his mind too many times, he thought about the glazed adoration in the brunet’s eyes when Enjolras picked him up because he was too drunk and the pride when a protest went well, the fear when one went bad and how Grantaire was always there to bail him out of Holding, except from when he was right beside him, the thrill and comfort he felt when that happened– which happened more than Enjolras cared to admit 

And, then he knew. 

Well, then he was certain. 

It wasn’t sudden. He always hated when teenagers had dated for two weeks and were suddenly oh-so-in-love’, he believed love took years to grow and build. Since, he had known Grantaire since he was twelve he was pretty certain in ten years of… friendship (?) that love could grow. 

“I love you.” Enjolras told him bluntly. He didn’t dress it up like he would had this been a speech, he said it plainly and simply because that’s how he felt and it floored Grantaire.

Grantaire’s eyes widened, his cheeks flushed and his mouth opened and closed a few times in an adorable and endearing way – at least to Enjolras it was. When he finally made coherent noise, he gasped: “What?”

“I love you.” Enjolras repeated. 

“What?” Grantaire uttered again.

“You already said that.” Enjolras answered, like Grantaire had done earlier. Two can play at that ‘Taire.

“Is this a joke?” Grantaire asked, his voice was fringed with hurt and anger, his eyes were full of pain and disbelief. 

“No.” Enjolras replied, realising what his smile must have looked like, he needed to be careful about what he said next otherwise Grantaire would run – again, he knew because, ten years of knowing each other, blah, blah, blah. “No, it isn’t. I know I haven’t been nice to you, we argue pretty much constantly, but maybe there is something in Courfeyrac’s unresolved sexual tension theory, well on my part that is. But, it’s not just that, I really do care for you, love you even. I love how I’ve had the honour of seeing you grown from that scrawny twelve-year old to the built-up twenty-two year old you are now. I love every argument, I love that you draw us all in your sketchpads, well the ones I’ve seen, I love that you can dance like the best of them and that you are certainly more than your first cynical and drunkard appearance. And, it took so long, but I realised just now, dancing with you like this, that I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. I want to hold you in my arms, I want to kiss away your fears, I want to make you see the beautiful person that I see, because I know you don’t see him in yourself. I want to be with you and sorry, it took me so long, but it’s true, it’s right, it’s real. I love you.” 

“Enjolras.” Grantaire interrupted, “Shit.” 

“My sentiments exactly.” Enjolras interjected with a small smile. His golden hair captured the disco lighting and his eyes were serious and hopeful. Grantaire thought Enjolras was always God-like in his looks, like Apollo or some other blonde haired deity, but now, Enjolras looked like a boy standing in front of another boy, asking him to love him, pardon the Notting Hill reference Grantaire’s brain supplied – he really needed to stop his, Cosette’s and Couf’s ‘RomCom’ sessions, but back to Enjolras – the blond looked like his dreams could either be made or broken with a simple word. He looked real and innocent. He looked human. 

“Well, number one, I didn’t realise you knew about Courfeyrac’s UST theory.” Grantaire said keeping his attitude as an armour – this was way out of his comfort zone. Enjolras laughing at him for how felt, he could deal with, Enjolras pretending to understand whilst reassuring them they could still be friends, fine, but Enjolras confessing his love for him, nada, not okay, nope, no way Jose. “And, number two, wow.” He paused again, “Do you know how long I’ve prayed for this moment? How many dreams have been pinpointed on this? How long I’ve spent thinking this could never happen?

“I’m hoping it’s a lot for the first two.” Enjolras replied, he began biting his bottom lip and boy, was that distracting. 

Grantaire shook his head in disbelief. “This is just surreal… You’re not drunk are you?”

“No, I haven’t touched a drop of alcohol all night.” Enjolras answered. He rarely did. Sometimes it made Grantaire want to scream, Enjolras was so Goddamn perfect. 

“You’re sure you feel this way?” Grantaire asked.

“I’m certain.” Enjolras nodded, his pale blue eyes serious, but when wasn’t he? “It took me a while, but I know this is what I feel and I know this is right, my feelings won’t change ‘Taire.” 

“Jesus, Mary, Joseph and all the shepherds, wise men, angles and farm animals.” Grantaire breathed, looking down at their stationary feet.

They were the only ones not dancing, but it didn’t seem to matter, slow songs were still playing and people still danced around them. Cosette and Marius were nearest to them, both caught up in their world of marital bliss, then Musichetta and Joly and Bossuet were doing an adapted three-way slow dance, that looked more like a group hug that swayed to the music. Courfeyrac and Jehan were dancing and whispering to each other, Éponine and Combeferre surprisingly were huddled together and Bahorel and Feuilly were nowhere to be seen. Gavroche was fighting with Azelma, Cosette’s parents, Fantine and Valjean, were dancing under the watchful eye of her uncle, Javert – Fantine’s brother, who has been suspicious of Valjean from the first day he met him. There a few of Marius and Cosette’s other friends were there as well as Marius’ family.

“But you feel the same way right?” Enjolras asked, uncertainty clouding his voice. 

Grantaire couldn’t help it, he laughed. He didn’t titter or giggle, he laughed in the most side-splitting, rib-aching, mouth-stretching way, guffawing was probably a better way to describe it, as he bent over, clutching his sides, tears falling from his eyes. Enjolras was aware everyone was staring, still dancing, but staring at the immobile couple in the middle, for the artist’s roaring was louder than the music and Enjolras swallowed. If he was about to be rejected, he’d rather not have everyone’s attention on him. He could feel his face going red and his eyes watering, but he stood tall and strong as Grantaire slowly recovered. 

The artist’s howling was ceasing into chuckling as he straightened, his eyes were bright as he looked at Enjolras face. His mirth dropped immediately seeing the blonde’s expression – his fearless leader had confessed his love for him and then he had laughed in his face. 

“Enjolras.” Grantaire started, the blond could feel his heart beating erratically in his chest, he felt too warm in his maroon suit and his palms felt clammy. 

Enjolras nodded.

“I didn’t mean to laugh, this is just…. Like something out of a dream, I’m still not sure this is real.” 

“It is.” Enjolras cut in. Grantaire forced himself to look into Enjolras’ pale blue eyes, he saw the hurt and rejection there and mentally hit his head against an imaginary wall. He closed his eyes and took a deep breathe, arranging is thoughts before opening his eyes to look back at Enjolras.

“This feels like a dream because since the first day I met you, even when we were twelve, I felt this pull, this attraction to you because let’s face it, you’re gorgeous. But, I was angry at you, I thought it wasn’t normal or right. But then I grew up a bit and learnt it is right and it is normal, I shouldn’t blame you for how I felt. So I bided my time, waiting for the perfect moment to tell you, but then we were suddenly graduating and I hadn’t told you and you were never going to have to speak to me again. So, I tried to get over you and got on with summer, started university, met Éponine and Jehan.

“We became close friends the three of us and it was good for so long, but then they were bursting with news about this new social-justice club and Éponine was still going through her Marius-Stalking-Phase so she was going and Jehan wanted to go because of a certain flamboyant drama student, so I went along with those two. And it was like a huge f-you from fate because you were there, I recognised you immediately, I know you recognised me too because your face dropped – so did ‘Ferre’s, but Couf’s face lit up and he was so welcoming, we’d never been close in school, as you know, but he acted like we were long-lost best friends. 

“Well, anyway, I realised I hadn’t gotten over you at all and it made me feel weak and I went back to my twelve year old ways. Hence all the arguments and comments, foam fingers, jokes, dramatic music and so on. I was trying to get your attention in the only way I knew how. But these meetings... These meetings made me see you in different ways. You were no longer the hot son of Apollo, you were full of passion, you were saddened by failed rallies and spurred on by successful ones, you were a friend, kind and gentle, you were a college student, drinking too much to celebrate the end of final exams, you cried and cheered, you laughed and shouted, you were you, purely and simply. You were and are human. And, my attraction gave way to affection and then even that grew into the kind of like six year-olds say twice with emphasis on the last like. 

“We became friends and then again that let me see more of you, the cat-like tendencies to always sit in the sunlight, the stubbornness and determination, your loyalty to everyone in these groups, how inherently good you are, standing up to strangers and helping those in need. And, then little idiosyncrasies like how much you care for your hair, how you have to walk around a table before sitting down to find the seat you want, how you snort when you laugh and sneeze like a kitten, I could go on. I fell so hard for you. Literally all our friends know and knew. So, for you to say you feel so strongly about me, it’s…. it’s something I’ve dreamed about, but had accepted would never happen. So, to answer the question, in a really roundabout way: yes, I feel the same way.” 

“Well, that’s good then.” Enjolras answered, he was beaming and it made the artist think of bright summer sunshine. Then, Grantaire was being pulled into the blond’s arms and relaxing. 

“It is.” Grantaire agreed, resting his head on Enjolras’ chest and shuffling closer to him, Enjolras put his head on top of Grantaire’s. “I am going to call you so many adorable pet names.” 

“Is this a challenge?” Enjolras asked. Grantaire couldn’t see, but he could hear the smile in his voice and almost hear the quirked eyebrow.

“I think it is. Who can use the more cringe-worthy affectionate names?” 

“It’s on, cookie-bear.” Enjolras laughed, it vibrated through his chest and into Grantaire’s.

“You don’t know what you’ve unleashed, strudel-brain.” Grantaire smirked. 

“Nor do you, pancake-ears.” 

“That sounds vaguely insulting.” 

“And strudel-brain doesn’t?” 

“Touché.” 

“I want to kiss you.” Enjolras declared after a moment.

Grantaire pulled back, so he could look him in the eye. The brunet couldn’t help as he smiled fondly, Enjolras probably wanted Grantaire’s consent written out in a fifteen page document, “What’s stopping you?” 

“This song. I don’t want it to be our song.” Enjolras admitted, “I’m pretty sure it’s that one from the last High School Musical, when they’re on the roof.”

Grantaire started chuckling again. “Can I Have This Dance? Yes, it is. I’m surprised you know it.” 

“I live with Courfeyrac, Combeferre too, but Courfeyrac is the instigator in the High School Musical binges. He picks it whenever he’s sad and drags me and Combeferre to watch it too.” Enjolras sighed. 

“So, he’s probably the reason this is on.” Grantaire laughed. 

“Oh no, I’m sure that’s all Marius. Cosette objected, but then Marius did the puppy dog eyes – he loves High School Musical even more than Courfeyrac.” Enjolras explained.

“Wow.” Grantaire breathed, on his face a bright smile. 

“This is not going to be our song, Grantaire.” Enjolras made a face, “Or I’ll always think of Courfeyrac’s crying face or worse, Marius’ fanboying over it, whenever its played which kills the mood.” 

“That would kill the mood, yes.” Grantaire agreed with a grin. “Let’s go find some good music.” 

Enjolras nodded and released Grantaire, they started to move separately off the dancefloor when Enjolras grabbed Grantaire’s hand. The brunet glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, but Enjolras was smiling at him with such adoration, he felt like melting. This was real. 

They went over to one of the tables and stood watching their friends as High School Musical still played in the background. It wasn’t long before Courfeyrac and Jehan had to have a break and joined them. Courfeyrac in his dark purple best man suit and lavender shirt unbuttoned, his tie discarded somewhere and Jehan at his side, his suit jacket thrown over a chair so he was in the pink trousers and floral shirt that was unbuttoned, and his long auburn hair was styled intricately at the back of his head. They got to choose their own suits and seeing as none of them were really conventional, the only people wearing black suits were the older guests.

“What was that laugh attack about?” Courfeyrac asked, as he bounced over to them. His green eyes full of joy as he pulled Jehan along. 

“Enjolras confessed his love to me.” Grantaire replied with a bright beam.

“He did?” Courfeyrac glanced at Enjolras questioningly. Courfeyrac knew Enjolras liked Grantaire before Enjolras knew, but he didn’t think it went as far as love. Jehan had a similar look, only his was drenched in suspicion.

“I did.” Enjolras nodded, trying to convey a look at Courfeyrac. During all their years of friendship they developed the knack to be able to read each other and so Courfeyrac just nodded and planned to tell Combeferre so they could interrogate him next time, Enjolras was warning him against that.

“I laughed because it’s just so surreal.” Grantaire continued.

“It’s real right?” Jehan asked, still glaring at Enjolras. 

“Yes.” Enjolras said, as he looked at Grantaire, his eyes filling with love. He pulled Grantaire closer to him, still holding hands. 

“Then I’m pleased.” Jehan’s frosty expression melted, he turned to Courfeyrac with a spark of inspiration in his eye akin to a mad scientist – it was Jehan’s poetry look, “I need to write.” 

Courfeyrac nodded and pulled a pen and paper out of his suit pocket and Jehan sat down in the nearest chair and began to write. It was things like this that made people convinced Jehan and Courfeyrac were perfect for each other, Courfeyrac would always have extra paper for Jehan when he needed to write and if he didn’t, well, his arms would become Jehan’s canvas. It was sweet in a nauseating way. 

“Is the rest of the music like this?” Enjolras asked.

“Why?” Courfeyrac countered. 

“I want to kiss Grantaire, but I don’t want the song to remind me of your crying face.” Enjolras answered blandly. 

Courfeyrac laughed, “My dear friend, it’s after eleven, the music only gets better.” 

“By ‘better’, he means Hannah Montana, Camp Rock and other Disney Films like ‘The Lion King’ and ‘Cinderella'.” Jehan supplied as he wrote away, covering the paper in words. “So worse. Much, much worse.”

“I don’t want any of those songs to be our song.” Enjolras turned to Grantaire. 

“I agree.” Grantaire nodded.

“We’re leaving, to go find our song.” Enjolras told Courfeyrac. 

“Why don’t you check on your phones? There might be a song on them.” Jehan suggested, still writing away.

“Mine’s dead.” Grantaire supplied.

“Mine only had Carly Rae Jepson on after Couf’s and ‘Ponine’s last prank.” Enjolras muttered. They had stolen his phone at the last meeting and deleted every single one of his songs so they could put music he hated on.

“There’s always my phone.” Courfeyrac offered. 

“No!” Both Grantaire and Enjolras said together. 

Courfeyrac mocked hurt. 

“We’ll be back.” Grantaire smiled. 

“Okay, do you want us to say why you’ve gone?” Courfeyrac asked, Enjolras saw the mischievous glint in his green eyes. 

“No!” Enjolras exclaimed, “Just don’t do anything, Courfeyrac.” 

“But…” Courfeyrac complained.

“Nothing.” 

“Enjy.” 

“Not a single word.” 

“Fine...” Courfeyrac lengthened the word like a mardy child.

“Good.” Enjolras finished triumphantly. 

“Alright, shall we?” Grantaire asked Enjolras. 

“We shall.” Enjolras smiled back, with that they turned and left Courfeyrac sulking and Jehan writing, to go find their song. 

* * * * * 

It didn’t take them long to walk to the nearest club, where music was blasting could be heard from down the street. The song was had a loud, thumping bass line, probably from the charts or worse… techno music. And, though the expression on Enjolras’ face spoke volumes, Grantaire still wanted to be sure. 

“How about this place?” Grantaire asked. 

“I’m not kissing you to techno music.” Enjolras answered blandly. 

They carried on, each club they passed having worse and worse music until Grantaire could tell, from one, single glance from Enjolras that there would be no kissing there. 

They walked into a few late-night cafes but the music in those were either ‘screamo’ (the café/tattoo parlour that Éponine and Bahorel were fond of), or music you would get in an elevator in the late-night bookshop/café that Combeferre frequented often or the one Musichetta hated as it was her own café’s biggest rival. A drizzle began to fall as they continued their walk.

“Enjolras.” Grantaire said after a while, “I don’t think we’ll find anywhere, we should head back before they all freak out.” 

Enjolras looked around, sighed and nodded. He looked disappointed, his eyes were full of tears and his curls seemed to be drooping, his mouth was turned down and his tone when he spoke was off, missing his usual zeal, “Okay.” 

The rain continued to fall around them, but instead of soaking them it seemed to cling to them and only felt wet when touched, it was a fine drizzle not a downpour and Grantaire was grateful for that. Grantaire glanced out of the corner of his eyes and sucked in a breath. Enjolras had his head down, the fine raindrops clinging to his hair and eyelashes, making it seem to glow both gold and silver. The rain also clung to his maroon suit, making it seem to shimmer under the streetlights – Grantaire’s own navy suit was reminiscent of the starry sky.

As if he knew he was being stared at, Enjolras looked up, making eye contact with Grantaire straight away. Enjolras’ expression softened from what it had been to affection just by looking at Grantaire and the brunet wondered if he was just imaging it or just now noticing. 

“I’m sorry, ‘Taire.” Enjolras said, “High School Musical would have been the best.” 

“It’s fine.” Grantaire smiled, taking Enjolras’ hand in his and bumping their shoulders together, “I had fun just walking with you.” 

“’Taire…” Enjolras breathed, his walking was slowing as he gazed at Grantaire. 

“Why don’t we just fuck music and kiss in the rain? Like all those films.” 

“Like The Notebook or A Cinderella Story?” Enjolras asked, “I think they did in Breakfast At Tiffany’s, oh and there’s The Host.” 

“Okay, so I was think more like in Spiderman and like one of us could hang upside down from a lamppost, but your ideas seem better. Though your knowledge on Romance Films is surprising.” Grantaire answered, “Is Couf’ the answer here.” 

“Actually, no. Jehan was Breakfast At Tiffany’s, Cosette, Musichetta and Éponine for A Cinderella Story and The Notebook – I always seemed to get invited to ‘Girl’s Night’ for some reason. But, Combeferre made me watch The Host, he’d read the book and wanted to judge the film.” Enjolras explained.

“Anyway, back to the main point: screw music, love the rain?” Grantaire asked. 

Enjolras looked at him for a moment. “I’d love to.” 

“Well then, do you want to do a run and jump or like against a building?” Grantaire asked. 

“Stop talking, please.” Enjolras answered. 

He hadn’t realised they had stopped walking until Enjolras was pulling him closer, his hands finding the position they had been in as they slow danced and was rocking them back and forth to their own rhythm. Grantaire moved their legs more, so they ended up twirling around in circles, he twirled Enjolras out and then in and manoeuvred them into a dip. 

Enjolras grinned up at Grantaire as the brunet leaned down, their breaths intermingled and then their lips were touching. They were kissing. There was no music and the rain fell, but it didn’t matter. They were kissing and it was bliss. They pulled apart, breathless and Grantaire pulled Enjolras up. 

Applause broke out loudly around them. 

They stood dazed for a moment before realising they were surrounded by their friends and strangers. Éponine was putting a camera away, her dark hair and black hair glistening with silver raindrops, Courfeyrac and Jehan were looking smug with their arms wrapped around each other, Combeferre was smiling as was Bahorel and Feuilly who were stood together, Bahorel trying to shield his hair from the rain. Musichetta was ‘whooping’ as Joly was spouting about how it was a myth to get colds from the rain, but they could get hypothermia, Bossuet was trying to calm him. Even, Marius and Cosette were there, grinning at them. 

“So you gave up with the music then?” Jehan remarked. The strangers amongst them began to disperse, muttering about how cute it was and that they would upload it to whatever social media in the morning or that it was couples like these that gave them hope.

“Yeah.” Grantaire smiled. 

“Well, it was certainly romantic.” Éponine said. “Though, Grantaire you need some lesson, ‘do you want to run and jump or like, up against a building’, really? I think you need to go to ‘Girls Night’ now. Enjolras, you were invited because we were trying to give you ideas about how to Grantaire you love him. We suspected there was more on your part than the cold and mean front, because though that was there it disguised the care you actually felt.”

Grantaire felt his face heat, “How much did you hear?”

“Well, Éponine and I found you, we heard from there on and called the others.” Combeferre explained. 

“Why are you all here?” Enjolras asked. 

“Do you know what time it is?” Cosette asked in answered, her hair was falling out of its complicated updo, her eyes were red and she looked tired. Actually when they looked back at Éponine she was in much the same state only her curls were down and dropping quickly. Looking around all the Amis were tired looking.

“You’ve been gone three hours, it’s like two in the morning.” Courfeyrac said, even Courfeyrac’s hair looked sad.

Enjolras and Grantaire shared a look, they at the same time they said: “Shit.”

They started laughing thinking back to Enjolras’ earlier utterance of the word. 

“Oh God, they started saying things in unison.” Bahorel groaned in the background.

“Well, I’m tired, this day has been long and I think Marius is going to fall asleep on his feet.” Cosette said, gesturing to her new husband who did look like he was falling asleep on his feet. “Thank you for a lovely day guys.” 

“Congratulations.” They all said and she smiled, pulling Marius along as she hailed a taxi to go to their hotel. 

The rest of them began to disband, all talking about different things – mostly from ‘how cute Enjolras and Grantaire are’ to ‘Thank God the pinning has stopped’ and finally, ‘Oh God what happens to them now’.

“I presume you two are going home together.” Combeferre said to Enjolras and Grantaire. 

“’Taire is going to stay over.” Enjolras told him with a small smile.

“If that’s okay.” Grantaire added. 

“I can’t stop you,” Combeferre answered, “Just don’t have sex with me in the next room, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Combeferre, who do you think I am?” Grantaire faked shock. 

“We won’t, or at least, we won’t be loud.” Enjolras answered, in a way that would have been sweet if not for the mischievous light in his eyes. Grantaire smirked back. And, that was the beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I hope you enjoyed this. Please point out any errors.
> 
> This came from a prompt from otpprompts on Tumblr, I lost the actual prompt. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
